


Bleeding Out

by sammysmissingshoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Dark Dean, Dark Dean Winchester, Duct Taped Sam Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Torture, Vampires, blood draining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammysmissingshoe/pseuds/sammysmissingshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Now, we could keep playing the draining game, or we could reserve whatever room’s left in these jars for whichever one of you killed my brother. If not, you and your brother both get a chance to play.'"</p><p>The missing scene from Alex Annie Alexis Ann. Sam's tied up and afraid one minute, then he's bleeding out into a jar... Yeah, that scene needs to be seen. Or read I suppose. Sam ends up being a lot more protective and inwardly sassy than what we saw on the show. And in the second chapter, Dean's a heck of a lot darker than he appeared to be in the show.<br/>Story and chapter titles come from lyrics from an Imagine Dragons song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So I Bare My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my other piece, Pain: Without Love, then you know what I like. I like my Sammy, and I like him hurting. I know I'm not alone in thinking that, so here's yet another example as to why I shouldn't be allowed to write. Enjoy!

Sam Winchester hates duct tape. He's never really loved it to begin with, but with everything around him suddenly developing some kind of fetish for it, he'd grown to hate it even more. He'd been duct taped by hunters, crazy people pretending to be ghosts, and now by vampires.

Being a Winchester sucks.

Even worse was seeing Dean sprawled out on the floor in front of him, unconscious. Sam struggled against his bonds, until he heard the "tsking" of the vampire, who then held a gun to the back of his head. Sam abruptly stopped moving.

"Hell of a sight to come home to."

" _Oh, great. Now he's talking. Better than sucking my blood I suppose."_

"Brother, lying dead on the floor."

In a blur of motion, Sam felt the air rush out of him in a _whoosh._ Not the first time he's been whacked with a rifle, but it still never felt good.

Sam coughed harshly as he tried to get the oxygen back into his lungs. Instinct told him to bend over, but the tape held him still. He managed to steady his breaths again, and lifted his head to shake the hair from his eyes. When he opened them, he was met with the icy stare of the vamp.

"Which one of you was it?" The monster spat. "Which one of you, took off my brother's head?!"

Sam remained silent. Although he and Dean hadn't been on the best of terms, that didn't mean he was planning on selling him out to some bloodthirsty freak.

"Was it you?" The vamp gestured its head towards Dean. "Was it him?"

Use of the phrase, "Bite me" came to mind, but then Sam remembered the company he was in.

Determining that Sam wasn't going to give him any information, the vamp decided that Sam could give him something else.

Sam eyed the vampire as it made its way over to a table. It said something about, "a brother for a brother", but all Sam saw was the flick of a knife cutting a plastic tube in half. The vamp carried a bucket back over towards Sam.

"…And when we hit the road," the bucket thudded at Sam's feet, making him jump. The gleam of his blade caught his eye. "We like to pack a lunch."

Sam's eyes widened and he felt his nose flare in the slightest hint of fear. He masked it again by putting on a stoic face.

The vamp smiled. It began rolling up Sam's sleeves, and Sam strained against his bonds. The harsh blade was placed against his arm.

"Don't touch me." Sam commanded, but he too heard the quiver in his voice.

The vamp continued smirking. "This may pinch a bit."

Cold steel soon mixed with warm blood as the knife bit into his arm. Sam dug his fingernails into the wooden arms of the chair at the sting of the blade. He winced as he held back a shout of pain when the vampire forced the tube into the small hole it had made in Sam's arm. Blood began dripping slowly down the tube, and the small drops that escaped tickled Sam's arm as they ran down his sleeve.

"This is just gonna help speed things up." The vamp explained at it brought its mouth down to the opposite end of the plastic tube.

A disgusted groan worked past Sam's lips as he felt his blood being sucked down the tube. He tried not to give the vampire the satisfaction of another one, but it was proving to be a difficult task as he felt his life force being drained out of him.

Sam's vision began to blur, but he managed to make out a figure placing two jars at his feet, no doubt what they were going to be used for.

It didn't take long for Sam to start hearing the steady _drip, drip, drip_ of his blood landing in the jar. The drops soon turned into a trickle, and the sound was just as sickening as the sight.

The same figure from before knelt down in front of Sam, and still kept the same accusing face.

"As you can see, we've got two jars here." The fang stole a glance to the jar slowly filling up with Sam's blood. "Well, one and a half. Now, we could keep playing the draining game, or we could reserve whatever room's left in these jars for whichever one of you killed my brother. If not, you and your brother _both_ get a chance to play." It leaned in until Sam could smell the iron in the blood in its mouth. "Now. Who. Was. It?"

Sam let his head sag to his chest in defeat. Maybe if he could keep the vamp's attention on himself long enough, Dean might wake up and get them both out of this.

In a quiet voice Sam admitted, even though it was a lie, "Me."

A cold hand suddenly grabbed his chin and forced his head up. Sam barely managed to make out the vamp's scowl. "Are you lying?'

Lying is second nature to Sam. Even losing blood at an alarming rate, Sam could still summon a stern glare. "No."

The vamp allowed Sam's head to fall to his chest as it released its grip. Sam let himself close his eyes against the inevitable pain he knew was coming.

There was a sudden harsh and forceful pressure on his recently injured arm. Sam's eyes snapped even tighter at the sudden sting. The monster continuously pushed down on Sam's new wound, and despite himself, Sam let out a small shout.

This time the vamp forced Sam's head up by yanking a handful of his hair. "You're lucky we're in a hurry, otherwise I'd make this last a good, long time."

" _Yeah, lucky me."_ Sam thought bitterly.

Sam couldn't help but groan again as the vampire started digging the blade into his other arm. It proceeded to jam the tube in, with a lot less care than before. The sight of his blood running in thick rivets, plus the rate at which he was losing blood, were making Sam sick.

If this was how Sam was going to die, Dean wouldn't even know that Sam sacrificed himself for him, not that Dean would even care. Sam now started to regret pushing Dean away for so long.

Pain and regret became the only thing Sam knew, as consciousness gradually began to fade away.


	2. And I Count My Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Dean's pretty uncharacteristically dark in this one, but since I wrote this after the season nine finale, the dark muse just needed to be satiated.

Vampires suck. Their voices echoed in his head. Vocal chords hummed with a condescension that made Dean want to stab a machete through them. He wanted to rip their hearts out through their chests. That is, if Dean believed they had hearts.

Occasionally he would hear Sam moan, from what Dean didn't really know, or care. He'd just have to wait until the time was right before he swoops in and saved Sam's ass. Again.

Gosh, why is Sam so helpless? Can't he ever take care of himself? Dean was getting pretty damn tired of always having to play the hero.

Finally, he heard one of the vamps approaching just as Dean had subtlety reached into his jacket pocket.

As soon as he saw a shadow lingering over him, and felt the monster grab him by the hair, Dean jerked up and plunged the dead man's blood filled syringe into the vamp's chest.

Shoving blood into these fangs wasn't enough. He wanted to see blood spill from their heads, and drip down his blade.

Dean rolled out from under the vamp after an all too brief struggle. Why couldn't these things put up more of a fight? Give a guy a challenge!

There was a sudden presence lurking behind him, and before Dean had the chance to investigate, he was tossed into a wall.

" _So, this one wants to play."_

Punches were thrown, dodged, and blocked by both Dean and the vampire. Dean managed to take out his machete, and swing the blade. Instead of it severing the monster's head, the machete caught only air.

Within seconds, Dean found himself pinned against the wall with his own blade coming dangerously close to his neck as the vamp fought for control over which direction the machete should go.

Dean thought he heard a worried groan from Sam's direction.

" _Shut up, Sam! I'm a little busy right now! Maybe next time you shouldn't get yourself captured so easily. Always gotta be the damsel in distress, don't you?"_

What Dean was too blinded by animalistic rage to see, was that Sam's cry wasn't for himself, but for him. The only thing Dean saw was the monster forcing his machete closer and closer to his throat.

Hunters were strong, so were vampires. Dean was so much more than both of them combined now. He wasn't weak, nor would he ever be again. He never has to be afraid again, he never has to back down.

A conscience is a funny thing. Some people believe that a conscience is a literal part of you, others think it's just a concept. Dean Winchester was none of the above. He didn't believe in consciences anymore. Anything outside of survival will slow you down.

Ever since he'd held that first blade, Dean had forgotten about the idea of a conscience. Not only had he stopped giving a damn about pointless things like vamp's worthless lives, he looked forward to ending them. These freaks deserved to die. Slow, and bloody.

" _Kill, kill, feel its blood run down your hands. Kill, kill. NOW!"_ The thoughts buzzed throughout Dean's head and seemed to spark some kind of dark adrenaline through his veins.

Before Dean even realized what had happened, he had suddenly switched positions with the fang. Machete held against its neck, waiting to be stuck through, swift and clean.

Dean felt his lip curve up in anticipation. But something was wrong.

The vamp wasn't looking at him.

The smile faded, and Dean's face turned cold as he ordered, "Look at me." Its eyes still avoided Dean's gaze. "Look at me, bitch!" He shouted.

Defeated eyes hesitantly met Dean's. Fear, pain, but worst of all, _life_ twinkled in the creature's eyes. Dean couldn't wait to see it fade.

With a final thrust of the blade, the warm speckles of blood littered Dean's face like dark, ruby freckles.

Dean listened intently to the _thunk_ of the severed head landing on the unforgiving wooden floor.

The rush and power of the kill began to recede, and _damn_ he missed it.

Glancing down at his hands, coated with sticky, red blood, Dean eagerly though, _"Till next time…"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think I'm getting the hang of this website! I'll keep posting my best stories and then I'll get started on posting my current one. It's a long one, but I'm having a great time. Let me know what y'all thought of this story, and until next time, carry on my wayward sons!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two will contain Dean's perspective when he kills the vampire. Nice and dark for all you Dark!Dean lovers out there. That's my favourite way to see him.


End file.
